Chapter Text
BOOM.
"Mikey!"
Gerard's eyes opened instantaneously, their whole body jerking in unison. They had just drifted to sleep, before their brain had produced the non-existent sound that haunted their conscience. It was, of course, the unsavory earworm that was a freshly detonated explosive. The young man sluggishly rubbed their neck, their throat feeling raw from the sudden yelp.
Gerard laid still for a moment, shaken by the reminder of the memory. Accompanied by the memory was a chill, deep in their bones, and a droning numbness in their chest. Both painfully familiar, induced by their closest friend: sorrow.
Each tick from the clock on the wall seemed as loud as a train whistle, and did not assist in soothing the pounding ache in the front of Gerard's skull. How long had it been, anyway? They weren't sure. It must have been days at that point—still, no one had come for them. It didn't seem to matter. Their prior shock now felt cold, empty in their chest.
The only other sound that accompanied the lone veteran was a quiet, but persistent ringing in their ears. It felt fresh, as if the grenades had detonated just moments prior. After staring at the ceiling for a few moments longer, Gerard finally decided to sit up.
I can't do this.
A familiar feeling tugged at their eyelids, but the young man was completely dried out. They let out a shaky sigh, coughing on the pungent taste of cheap brandy that accompanied it.
Mikey would've preferred a pour of whiskey.
Lazily, they turned to the side, weakly groping at the darkness in search of a bottle. Finally, they let out a sigh of relief as they felt cool, familiar glass brush against their fingertips. They reached for it drunkenly, but—
The bottle plummeted to the floor, hitting it with a loud BANG, causing Gerard to jump, bracing for impact. Their hands darted to cover their head, and they shut their eyes tight, their ears ringing. Memories of mutilated corpses, cries of innocent men, the stench of death, all filled their mind. They waited for the impact of hot, unforgiving shrapnel. Of course, it didn't come. After a few excruciating minutes, they slowly went limp.
I'm home. It's fine. It was just a bottle. It's fine.
A lie which Gerard chanted to themself like a mantra. Helplessly, they let out a weak cry of desperation at the realization that they were out of alcohol—of course, drowning their losses in sour liquor only led to deeper sorrow. Their heart beat angrily at the inside of their ribcage from the shock, sending pangs of pain throughout their body. Although adrenaline coursed through the singer's veins, their heart was beating so agonizingly slow. It may have had something to do with the dull emptiness in their stomach. The drunk fell back onto their pillow lethargically.
The ringing in their ears was unbearably loud now. It was so persistent that now, it was almost a familiar, soothing lullaby. A flatline to a corpse. Only, this corpse's heart was still beating. Hardly. Their thoughts seemed fuzzy, incoherent, and they couldn't feel their legs. They couldn't tell whether their lungs were expanding still. Surely, it wasn't of any concern.
Slowly, gently, their vision became unfocused, a physical marker of their mind slipping into unconsciousness. Sleep wasn't something they were acquainted with anymore; the young man welcomed any semblance of rest with open arms, and thus, slumped back against their stiff bedding.
Gerard didn't remember closing their eyes. But, when they opened them again, they were met by the light of morning peeking through their blinds. The first thing they noticed was that their chronic migraine seemed to have disappeared, having no reaction to the needling coming through their blinds.
Miracles do happen, the veteran mused.
After looking around for a few moments, Gerard noticed more oddities. Their body felt... weightless. Their heartbeat wasn't an agonizing labored kick against their chest. Their legs no longer felt like fresh victims of a freight train. And the ringing in their ears seemed to be replaced by a low hum, pleasant and bass-like.
Gerard's chest felt warm, but their body felt cold. This wasn't unusual. Their eyes fluttered shut again, and they took a deep breath-
What?
Nothing. They opened their eyes. They tried again, to breathe, to feel the air enter their lungs, but it was as if their lungs couldn't expand. It didn't hurt, but it definitely wasn't normal. Confused, they sat up.
As if on queue, a soft voice met the musician's ears.
"Gerard..."
Their head whipped around, startled, in search of the source of that voice.
"Hey, hey, it's alright."
There it was again. The voice seemed to encompass Gerard. Their eyes widened as the recognition clicked in their mind. The singer groaned softly as they registered whose voice they were "hearing". They were used to the hallucinations, but hated them nonetheless. Because no matter how much they heard his voice, or how much they pictured him, he was still gone-
"...Gee? Do you hear me? I'm up here." The voice sounded hesitant now. It was uncanny how clear the tone was in his ears, in comparison to their past auditory hallucinations. Another oddity.
"Stop... stop it..." the veteran shook their head, looking down at their lap. They shifted reluctantly to stand...
"Hey-"
Gerard felt themself stand, felt their feet planted on the floor, but, the rest of their body didn't seem to follow. They whipped around in confusion, studying the bed. There their body was, lying still on the mattress. The young man's brow furrowed in shock and confusion as they stared at their... own... body? They could see themself there, but... No, I'm standing- I'm standing right here. Right? Their mind raced.
"What the hell?" They mumbled. "I'm.. am I..."
Dead?
It didn't take long for the musician to begin panicking. No, this wasn't real. This must've been an uncanny, alcohol-induced dream. The body before them seemed paler, skinnier than they remembered themself to be. Gerard looked down at their hands, which seemed to move in choppy slow motion in front of them... they squinted. It was as if they were unreal.
A soft sigh coming from behind them caused the young man's head to jerk around again.
"Gerard, it's okay..."
That voice again. Usually, when they hallucinated or were having a nightmare, the reproduction of their late brother's voice seemed foggy, distant. However, now, he sounded clear, as if he was standing right beside them. He sounded real- he sounded alive. It was seriously freaking them out.
"I think- I know you hear me, Gerard. You're dead now. Look up," the voice called patiently.
Usually, Gerard tried not to entertain their hallucinations. But... now, they were unsure as to whether this was really just a trick their mind was playing on them.
They lifted their head slowly, gazing upwards. The veteran wasn't sure where exactly they were supposed to be looking, but they studied the ceiling for a few moments. Moments later, the ceiling seemed to emit a warm glow, quickly encapsulating Gerard.
The shine was bright, but not painfully so. Rather, it felt welcoming and warm. Instinctively, the singer squinted at the light. Their body seemed to drift involuntarily, and they felt someone take their hands in a gentle grip. Careful, slender fingers held their own clammy hands. The sensation was safe, familiar. As they blinked, the bright glow slowly faded, and a figure came into view. Gradually, they began to process their new surroundings.
It was as though Gerard had been taken to a new plane of existence entirely. Their vision was still unfocused, but the young man began to look around hesitantly, processing their new surroundings:
Layers of thick, gloomy clouds loomed over what seemed to be a wasteland—no, perhaps a demolished city of sorts. Bright specks, snow-like in appearance, fell gently over the terrain in a smooth, eternal rhythm. The flakes instantaneously melted away as they met dusty piles of abandoned rubble. Figures moved among the debris slowly, some in search for something, while others roamed aimlessly. Gerard noticed that the pleasant, bass-like hum from earlier seemed to surround them entirely, slightly more intense than before.
As their eyes focused and adjusted to the dim-yet-alive environment around them, they looked back to the person standing in front of them. They were now able to focus enough to study the person's features. It was only a few moments before Gerard's eyes widened in recognition, jaw falling in shock.
"M-Mikey..?"
They almost didn't believe it. Any other person wouldn't have recognized him; his light, side-swept cut was now jet-black and short, his glasses were nowhere to be found, and he now wore a thick black coat seemingly fit for marching, adorning a badge of honor on his breast. The coat was paired with a matching bibber and black leather dress shoes. He looked quite different, but it was most definitely Mikey. No matter how different his appearance and attire were, Gerard could never forget those familiar eyes—lax, yet full of caring.
"Yes...?" Mikey smiled in return, squeezing his older brother's hands as a grounding acknowledgment.
Gerard could only gawk in disbelief. They quickly found themself wrapping their late younger brother in a tight embrace.
"Mikey... you're- you're- I'm..." they stammered breathily, unsure of what to say. Their shaky hands grasped at the fabric of his coat, as if he would disappear again if they were to let go. For a millisecond, they believed it may have been a dream. But, in no dream had their brother felt so warm, so real, so... alive.
Mikey firmly hugged his older brother in return, closing his eyes. He allowed them to cling to him, re-familiarizing himself with their scent and the feeling of their embrace. Oh, how the brothers had missed the feeling of family.
After a few peaceful moments, the younger of the two gently pulled away. Gerard's hands remained on Mikey's shoulders, as if they still hadn't processed that he wasn't dead, and that he was real.
Gerard looked down at themself now, noticing that their attire had changed at some point, now matching Mikey's. The older took another look at their brother, and immediately noticed the melancholic smile on his face. They tilted their head a little.
"...w-what?" The singer questioned, their voice cracking.
Mikey gazed at his brother for a few moments. He didn't remember them looking so worn; their figure was notably thinner, the circles under their eyes unnaturally dark. He shook his head a little before answering.
"I'm... I'm so glad to see you again. It's just, you've... joined me so soon," He spoke carefully, "...too soon." He whispered.
"...I guess... but, you're here now... that's- that's all that matters to me." They admitted vulnerably. They weren't sure where the two of them were or what was going to happen, but they did know that this was real, and that it would all be okay now.
Mikey studied Gerard's face for a few moments. From their expression alone, he sensed that the veteran's conscience was flooded with questions, but mostly, he could tell they were relieved. He wanted to express his sorrows and concerns regarding his brother's passing on Earth. However, he decided that that wasn't what they needed just yet.
The bassist nodded slowly, sighing softly.
"I guess so. Come on, let me show you around here." He started. "Actually, There's work for us to tend to, I have tons to show and tell you about." Mikey suggested, unable to resist another smile.
"Yeah, alright." Gerard agreed. Being useful and talking to their brother sounded incredibly inviting, after all of their time alone. They didn't hesitate to follow their little brother as he led them through the terrain.